


something, everything

by lavenderlotion



Series: i love you as certain dark things are to be loved [1]
Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Age Difference, Child Neglect, Flirting, Getting Together, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Light Angst, M/M, Making Out, May/December Relationship, Mutant Powers, New Year's Kiss, Telekinesis, Telepathy, Young Charles Xavier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:15:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28129749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavenderlotion/pseuds/lavenderlotion
Summary: Tonight the secrets feel so much heavier than they usually do and Charles... he’s tired of carrying them.
Relationships: Jakob Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier
Series: i love you as certain dark things are to be loved [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2060772
Comments: 6
Kudos: 8





	something, everything

**Author's Note:**

  * For [homosociality](https://archiveofourown.org/users/homosociality/gifts).



> had an idea, [Mid](https://www.archiveofourown.org/users/midrashic/profile) is a bad fucking influence

Erik’s house is decorated for his family's celebration of Chrismukkah. They have a big tree, sparkling with rainbow lights and adorned by homemade decorations—it looks nothing like the tree Mother got a company to put up in their front entryway, and a small smile graces Charles’ lips as he remembers decorating it with Erik. They also have a gorgeous, bronze hanukkiah sitting proudly on their living room table, and a few other bits and bobs throughout the rest of their house (some of which Charles has sneakily given them over the years). 

As fun and festive as it is, Charles doesn’t care about any of that, not really, and he only notices it all in passing when he first arrives. He has other things on his mind when he first shows up, letting himself into Erik’s house like he’s done a countless number of times during their decade-long friendship, and, despite himself, he goes straight to the drinks. 

Charles is only seventeen still, but Jakob, Erik’s father, lets them drink if they all promise to stay the night and not tell their parents. 

Charles never tells his parents. Not when coming to Erik’s house is the only escape he has from the charade of family he’s forced to play at just to make his parents look good. In fact, that was what he was supposed to be doing tonight, before he left by slipping out of the hall and scurrying through the gardens. Charles knows he’ll regret leaving the party his parents had thrown come morning, but for now, he just wants to get drunk with his friends. 

Well... that wasn’t  _ all _ he wanted, but it was all he was bound to get. At least if he was drunk he could ignore the fact that he had nothing to look forward to come the new year, at least not until September when he would finally be able to  _ leave. _

Slipping away from his friends is much easier than slipping away from his house had been, despite the fact that his friends actually care about him. As it nears midnight, however, Charles doesn’t blame them for pairing off with one another. He’s not the only single one, but he’s the only single one that doesn’t have an interest in anyone else in their group. 

No. Charles has his eyes on someone else. 

His head feels heavy as he walks up the steep steps that lead to the second floor of Erik’s house, nothing like the grand staircases in Charles’ manor. He has to keep a tight grip on the railing as he goes, and it makes him glad he left his drink downstairs so he can press his other hand against the wall as he goes. He isn’t drunk, not quite, but he’s certainly not sober. It’s nice, is what he is, feeling soft around the edges. 

Something about it makes him feel hopeful. 

Maybe he’s just being foolish, but it’s a nice feeling nonetheless.

Erik’s room is the first door on the left. Charles has spent many a night hiding away under his covers, Erik curled around him and making him feel safe in a way Charles hadn’t ever felt before. Sometimes he wishes he could like Erik, who’s strong and caring and only a year older than him. But Erik is straight, annoyingly so, and when Charles tries to look at Erik and want, he’s only left  _ wanting. _

Because Erik doesn’t have a beard. Or lines decorating his eyes. Or a belly that’s been starting to form over the last handful of years. His shoulders aren’t quite wide enough and he isn’t quite tall enough, and while he’s bigger than Charles he isn’t _ big enough _ for Charles to want him. No, when Charles looks at Erik like that, he wants someone else. 

Jakob’s bedroom is the last on the right, across from the washroom. He often sleeps with his door open, and Charles has spent too many nights standing in this hall and watching him sleep under the guise of using the toilet. It’s a secret he keeps locked up tight, hidden within his chest like so many others. 

Tonight, however, the secrets feel so much heavier than they usually do and Charles... he’s tired of carrying them. 

Jakob’s door is cracked open. The music that Azazel is playing downstairs can be easily heard up here, though it’s distant. It isn’t all-consuming like it is on the floor below, and Charles lets the security of that distance wrap around him and gives him strength otherwise unknown to him. He doesn’t know if it’s the liquor that burned his throat or the burning band of bruises covered by his collar, but there’s something inside him that feels reckless tonight. 

He  _ wants _ to be reckless, tonight. 

It’s easy to push Jakob’s door open. The hinge creaks, and light floods into the room from the hall. Charles can hear something playing on Jakob’s little television—the Lehnsherrs have never allowed Charles to buy them anything of value, as much as it irks him at times—but he doesn’t pay it much mind, not when the entirety of his focus zeros in on Jakob immediately. 

He’s beautiful, even in the yellow light from the hall. 

“Charles,” Jakob says, sounding surprised. Charles understands—he’d told Erik he wouldn’t be able to show, and he’s sure Erik would have passed that along. He’s always been jealous of Erik for having a father who loves him, even though Jakob is one of the best men Charles has ever met. “I didn’t expect to see you tonight.”

“I hope it’s not a disappointment?” Charles asks, raising an eyebrow as he leans against the door frame and hopes, against hope, that his tight slacks and fitted dress-shirt look appealing enough even under the oversized cardigan he has on. 

He’s hoping Jakob will notice it’s  _ his, _ even if Charles has had it for a couple of years. 

Charles certainly notices Jakob, though he  _ always _ notices Jakob. He’s sat on his bed, up by the headboard, on his side of the bed even though there hasn’t been anyone else on the other side in  _ years. _ His hair is messy, as it often is in the evenings, and soft from a shower. 

_ He _ looks soft, and Charles wants to be soft with him.

“You’re never a disappointment, Charles,” Jakob tells him and Charles can’t stop the way he dives forward into the older man’s mind without restraint, not even if he wanted to. 

He’s loosened with drink and feeling desperate enough that he  _ needs _ to know Jakob is being truthful, that Jakob wants him here, likes him, doesn’t  _ hate _ him like his own “father” does and, as Charles slips along Jakob’s thoughts, heavy and slow with drink, he finds nothing but burning honesty. 

Jakob  _ does _ want him here and something in Charles cracks open, knowing that, as something low and heady stirs in his gut. 

“I wanted to see you,” Charles says, with a startling amount of honesty which he tends to keep hidden around a man who looks at him like he  _ sees _ him, and actually does. 

Charles wears masks. All the time. He learned at a very young age that there were certain ways to act around certain people that would suit him best. Confident and outgoing at school secured him a large social reach. Quiet and reserved at home spared him from being beat. Meek and apologetic got him extra treats from the house staff. Flirtatious and sincere earned him better grades from his teachers. 

With his telepathy, moulding himself into a shape that would best appease those around him has always been rather easy. All he needs to do is dive into someone’s mind and it’s so  _ easy _ to make himself into what they want. Wearing masks is tiresome at times, certainly, but it’s a gift he perfected many years ago, when he realized that being Charles wasn’t enough. 

The first person to see  _ Charles, _ stripped-down bare without a mask on, was Erik. They’ve been best friends since he was seven, after all, and Charles found the first  _ home _ he’s ever known in their friendship. And his friendship with Erik had been so different to any other, because he actually  _ liked _ being around Erik and that, enjoying spending time with the other boy unlike he did with so many others, made it easy to let himself simply be. 

With Erik, Charles  _ let _ himself be seen. 

Jakob... he’s always seen through his masks, no matter how hard Charles tried to keep them on. 

“You are drunk, Charles,” Jakob tells him kindly, with a smile that’s so handsome it makes Charles' knees hurt. Jakob is  _ always _ kind to him, no matter what. 

Still, Charles frowns, and wonders how he can tell. 

“I’m not drunk Mr. Lehnsherr!” Charles protests, a pout on his face that he tries to make more appealing by widening his eyes. “I’ve only had, like...”

“Charles, if you don’t know how many drinks you’ve had, you may have had too many,” Jakob laughs, but not at him. Charles chuckles along, which means they’re laughing together, and that makes something low in his belly go warm. 

He really hasn’t had _ that _ many drinks, but maybe if Jakob thinks he’s drunker than he is, he can get away with what he wants. 

Charles keeps his pout on his lips, drops his head, and looks up from under his eyelashes. “You’re a party pooper.”

“I just don’t want to clean up the puke,” Jakob tells him, raising an eyebrow when Charles’ face flushes darkly. 

“That was  _ one  _ time.” Charles crosses his arms with a pout he hopes is pretty, doing his very best  _ not _ to think about that one time at all. “Also, I’m pretty sure you gave me food poisoning, so it wasn’t even my fault.”

It’s a deflection, yes, but it’s one he’s hoping will make Jakob laugh. 

It doesn’t. 

“Why aren’t you downstairs with your friends, Charles?” Jakob asks steadily, looking at Charles and seeing too much. God, he always sees  _ too much.  _

Charles doesn’t say anything, and instead, he tries to find strength from  _ somewhere _ as he pushes off the door frame. It’s only a few steps until his knees are hitting the end of Jakob’s bed, and he sways forward with his momentum. 

“You’re not drunk, huh?” Jakob asks, looking stupidly handsome with a smirk Charles wants to taste stretched across his lips. 

“Nope,” Charles pops the “p” and grins right back, his own smile toothy. “Like I said, sir, I’ve only had a few drinks.”

“That shouldn’t be as comforting as it is,” Jakob mutters, but Charles hears him. “Maybe I should stop letting you kids get wasted.”

Charles barks out a laugh, surprised. “That is a  _ gross _ over-exaggeration of what any of us do, and you know that!”

“I do,” Jakob relents, and he grabs the remote from his end table to flick off the television. “Now, are you okay?”

Charles sways backward, both because of the abrupt change in conversation  _ and _ the sincerity shining in Jakob’s eyes. He was expecting another joke, not a question about his well being. He tries for an easy smile, doing his best to keep his posture loose. “I’m fine, Jakob.”

“Wanna try that one again, kid?” Jakob asks, looking at Charles with his full attention. 

It’s... a lot. A dark flush rises to Charles’ face at being so easily seen through, and he curses his pale complexion even if the smile on Jakob’s face goes soft. God, he’s so gorgeous.

“I am totally fine,” Charles says again, doing his best to force conviction into his words. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well, you weren’t supposed to be here,” Jakob points out. “Erik told me you weren’t going to be able to make it, but here you are.”

A million answers rush through Charles’ mind. He has no idea what he wants to say and a quick, feather-light touch does nothing to help. Jakob has always felt Charles’ heavier touches in his mind. It had taken  _ years _ for Charles to learn how lightly he could brush against Jakob’s thoughts and not be felt, and unfortunately a touch so light only gives him so much. 

He doesn’t know what he  _ should _ say but he does know what he  _ wants _ to say and... he wants to be reckless, right? 

Maybe it’s time to be reckless. 

“I... wanted to bring the New Year in with you, sir,” Charles whispers prettily. 

He bites into his bottom lip as he keeps looking at Jakob, and he doesn’t miss the way the older man’s breath hitches.  _ Good. _

“Oh?” Jakob asks, distant curiosity threaded through his voice in a way that doesn’t fool Charles at all.

His heart is racing. Pounding almost painfully hard against his rib cage. There are so many things that Charles wants to say and wants to do and he doesn’t know  _ how. _ He doesn’t know how to be Charles, not when Charles wants his best friend’s father more than he’s ever wanted anything in the world. He doesn’t know how to be Charles, not when he doesn’t know what Jakob wants that to be. 

“It’s almost midnight, sir,” Charles says, but when something along the edges of Jakob’s mind goes taut, he adds, “I’ve missed you. I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“I’ve been busy,” Jakob tells him, which isn’t really true and they both know it. “There are a lot of shifts around this time of year.”

It’s a weak excuse. 

“You work too hard,” Charles says reproachfully. “There’s no need.”

Something hardens behind Jakob’s eyes, turning them from a gloomy day into a thunderstorm. “Charles.”

He rolls his eyes, but doesn’t say anything. It’s an argument they’ve been having since Jakob helped Charles access  _ his _ inheritance, left to him by his father upon his death. Raising Erik on his own hadn’t been easy, and Charles had more money than he could spend in a lifetime, but other than a sneaky bit of help here and there, Jakob’s never taken anything that Charles has freely offered. 

Maybe tonight that will change. 

Maybe Jakob will finally take  _ him. _

“Have you been avoiding me?” Charles asks, and the hurt in his voice is disgustingly honest. After all, it’s a weak excuse. 

Jakob looks him in the eye, steady, breath even, but his thoughts whirling. Jakob shouldn’t be able to feel that Charles is there, feeling along the edges. Maybe he can’t but just suspects that Charles is, anyway. 

“Yes.” It’s the truth, because they would both know if it was a lie.

“I—”

“You’ve done nothing wrong,” Jakob tells him firmly, before Charles even has a chance to flinch back from the man’s easy admission. 

Still, Charles sways backwards. His hands tangle together, and before he can stop it, he’s picking at his cuticle in a nervous tick. It’s a weakness that he wouldn’t show  _ anyone _ other than the Lehnsherrs, who are family to him in a way no one else is. He sees Jakob’s hands reach up, but he lets them fall back to the bed as he bows his head. 

Charles wants to dive into his thoughts and pull out what he’s thinking. 

He just  _ wants.  _

“Your birthday is coming up,” is whispered like a confession, and perhaps that’s what it is. “You’ll be eighteen.”

“I know,” Charles tells him, and the way Jakob won’t meet his eyes makes it easy to walk around the bed until he’s standing at Jakob’s knee. He feels  _ so close _ to something that he’s too afraid to name. Like he’s brushing it with his fingertips, but he can’t get a grasp on it. Almost like an accusation, he says, “You’ve been counting down the days.”

Jakob finally looks up, and his expression is dry. “I do that for you boys every year,” Jakob reminds him, even though he doesn’t need to. Charles shrugs, smiles at him, and Jakob sighs loudly. “But you’re right.”

“I know,” he chirps, feeling something blossom in his chest at the  _ admission. _ He refuses to see it as anything but. His earlier hurt is forgotten easily, now that he knows Jakob isn’t avoiding him because he doesn’t want to see him. 

He gets enough of that from his mother. 

“You’ll be  _ eighteen,” _ Jakob says again, like it means something, like it means  _ everything— _

And it does.

This time, when Charles smiles, it’s not meant to entice, and it’s certainly not a practised expression. No, this time, Charles’ smile is sharp and joyful all at once. It’s easy to plant his knee snuggly against Jakob’s thigh, and when he rests his hand on the man’s shoulder for support, it’s easier still to swing himself up onto his lap. 

He’s never sat on Jakob’s lap like this. It’s been  _ years _ since he’s sat across the man’s thighs, and the last time it would have happened certainly didn't feel like this. Warm arousal bubbles up Charles’ tummy, enveloping around his racing heart. He rests his other hand on Jakob’s other shoulder to keep himself steady as he settles his bum across the seat he’s made for himself. The fabric of Jakob’s sleep shirt is soft from wear under his fingers. 

“I’ll be eighteen,” Charles murmurs, eyes heavy as he looks at Jakob’s wide eyes and dropped jaw. 

With a grin that feels like a victory, he gently pushes Jakob’s chin closed. 

“You’re wearing my sweater again,” Jakob accuses him, seconds later, but his hands settle on Charles’ hips, up under the loose fabric and against the silky material of his slacks. Even though Jakob isn’t holding him tightly, Charles doesn’t think he’d ever be able to get out of his grip.

His hands feel like a band he wants to wear for the rest of his life. 

“You like seeing me in your clothes,” Charles tells him, and any uncertainty he felt earlier washes away when Jakob’s head falls back and he  _ laughs, _ long and loud and sounding like the most beautiful thing Charles has ever had the pleasure of listening to. 

He skims his fingers inwards, and he tucks them around the stretched out fabric of Jakob’s shirt. His expanse of chest hair peeks out when Charles tugs the shirt lower, and his breath hitches. God, he’s so fucking beautiful. 

The door behind them swings closed, Jakob’s eyes lighting up brightly as his mutation flicks the lock. 

Jakob can see through his masks. He’s  _ always _ been able to see through his masks, but Charles can see into his  _ mind, _ and there’s nothing Jakob can hide from him. Charles wants to be  _ reckless _ and he lets himself, rushing into Jakob’s mind as Jakob’s fingers swipe back and forth along his hips, keeping him close and holding him tight. He’s in Jakob’s lap and it’s so  _ easy _ to fall into Jakob’s mind, too. 

“You’re not going to make me get off your lap?” Charles asks, breathless, mind whirling, barely able to make sense of what’s happening, what he’s thinking and feeling over the roaring of Jakob’s mind. 

“I don’t think you want me to,” Jakob teases, pink riding high on his cheeks. Charles raises a hand to feel the warmth of his blush, thumb catching on Jakob’s coarse beard. 

“Mm, you’re right,” Charles agrees easily, smiling widely when Jakob turns his head to kiss the palm of his hand. “You don’t want me to get off either. Are you taking advantage of me?” 

“You said you weren’t drunk,” Jakob mentions, but Charles can see the worry in his stormy eyes, feels his hands start to draw back before Charles sways forward and tightens his hold on his shirt. 

“I’m not,” Charles tells him, and then corrects it to, “Not enough to impede my judgment... only enough to be the courage to actually do this.”

Jakob raises an eyebrow at him and smirks, saying, “Charles, you’ve been panting after me for five years.”

Charles sputters, his mouth dropping open as Jakob pushes memories at him, moments throughout the last few years when Charles has tried,  _ horribly, _ to flirt. 

“Oh my god!” he exclaims in shock, embarrassment making him squirm across Jakob’s lap. “Not cool!” 

Jakob opens his mouth to say something, probably something  _ terrible, _ but then cheering erupts from downstairs. They each look over to the clock on Jakob’s bedside table and read the blinking 12:00 together. When Charles looks back, Jakob is already looking at him with heavy eyes. 

“Happy New Year, Charles,” Jakob breathes out, warm breath hitting Charles’ chin from where he’s leaned in. 

“Happy New Year indeed,” Charles whispers, and then he kisses him. 

Despite having been imagining this very moment for upwards of five years, it’s nothing and everything like Charles had pictured it. It’s  _ better, _ because Jakob’s lips are warm and firm against Charles’, and his beard scratches against Charles’ upper lip in a way that Charles hasn’t ever been able to imagine. 

Jakob smells like he has for years, like metal from work and the stale coffee he always drinks, the body wash he’s used since Charles started buying it for him a few years ago. He tastes like the same stale coffee, and something sweet, since he tends to eat chocolates in bed, and then  _ Jakob, _ which is something deep and dark in a way that makes Charles yearn for more. 

Charles pulls back before he can let it go on for too long, his heart racing and his palms sweating. What does one do when they’ve finally gotten everything they’ve ever wanted?

“Happy New Year, baby,” Jakob wishes him in a deep voice that sends a shiver down his spine. 

“Jakob,” Charles whispers, hands cupping his face, fingertips pressing into the jut of his jaw, heart racing and breath stuttering and feeling terrified. “Jakob—”

“It’s okay, baby, it’s okay,” Jakob soothes, moving in and dotting sweet little kisses to Charles’ jaw. 

But it  _ isn’t,  _ or maybe it is, but Charles doesn’t  _ know. _ He doesn’t know and he presses that at Jakob’s mind in a big jumble of confusion that he doesn't know what to do with. He’s wanted this for so long that now that he has it... what is he supposed to do? 

When Charles pulls back, Jakob’s eyes are crinkled with his smile, and he’s so handsome it takes Charles’ breath away.

“Hey, baby, it’s okay,” he says again, and this time Charles nods along because  _ it is.  _

Jakob’s hands slide from his arms to the small of his back, drawing Charles back in for a sweet kiss. Jakob’s moustache tickles his upper lip and Charles giggles into the kiss before he nips it with his teeth, pulling a moan from Jakob whose hands run up and down his back in long, sweeping strokes. 

He’s never kissed someone like this. He’s never kissed someone just to  _ kiss _ them, just because he wanted to feel the weight of their lips against his own. Charles has never run his fingers across someone’s throat to feel the flex of muscle as they moved to kiss him better. Kissing has only ever been a means to an end, and that end has always been something different. 

Kissing Jakob feels like coming  _ home. _ He slides deeper into the man’s lap, spurred on by the way Jakob moans and holds him closer. It feels so bloody good and Charles feels like he’s going to burst into flames when Jakob pulls him  _ closer.  _ He moans deeply when it presses his growing erection against Jakob’s belly. Jakob moans too, and Charles swallows it up as he kisses him and kisses him, not wanting to stop. 

Before Charles can grind down against him, Jakob pulls himself back with a deep noise, hands returning to Charles’ hips to hold him tight, forcing him still. Charles tries to kiss him again but Jakob turns his head away, so Charles kisses his jaw instead.

“I know you want me,” Charles breathes against his skin, pulling a fantasy right from Jakob’s mind and playing it behind his eyes, adjusting details until Charles’ nude form, spread out under Jakob’s bigger body, is far more accurate. 

“Jesus fuck,” Jakob groans, so loudly Charles thinks he can feel the vibration of it against his stinging lips.

“I’m not that small,” Charles complains, letting Jakob kiss the pout off his lips. 

“I’m sorry, Jakob says, but with the way he keeps kissing Charles, he doesn’t mean it. “I wasn’t sure.”

“That’s okay,” he moans, throwing his head back when Jakob starts to kiss towards his neck. 

It feels good,  _ so good, _ but Charles wants more, wants everything, and he starts scrambling at Jakob’s shirt in a desperate bid to get it off, wanting to get to skin, but Jakob pulls himself back again, puts space between them as he looks up at Charles, flushed and breathing heavy. 

“I’m not going to fuck you,” Jakob tells him seriously and Charles—Charles thinks of a million things to say, but in the end, he says nothing and kisses Jakob instead, because this is already  _ so much more _ than he’s ever imagined being allowed; kissing Jakob strewn across his lap, bringing in the New Year with a racing heart and a blinding smile stretching across his face, mirrored by the one on Jakob’s face that they press together in a facsimile of a kiss. 

“I don’t care,” Charles tells him, and then he does something he’s  _ never _ done and lets Jakob feel his mind, inviting him to sink into his thoughts and show him everything. “I just want to be with you.”

Jakob laughs, though it’s a broken sort of noise that hurts Charles’ chest. “I want you too, Schatz.”

Charles smiles and kisses him again. He’s going to kiss Jakob forever. 

**Author's Note:**

> *heavy sigh* yes, they'll be more in this 'verse :( 
> 
> come say hi to me on [tumblr](https://lavender-lotion.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> kudos aren’t the same as getting a comment, not even close. so a comment, as short and sweet or as sprawling and sporadic as you can manage, would be _greatly_ appreciated! don't know what to comment? how about _”this was great!”_ or _“awesome work!”_
> 
> i run an 18+ x-men discord server! check it out [here!](https://discord.gg/pebvUEnWB6)


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